


Flight Risk

by SenEolas



Category: Irish Mythology, Táin Bó Cúailnge, Ulster Cycle
Genre: Gen, IN SPACE, Space AU, Spaceships, background Conall Cernach, background Idh mac Riangabra, underage joyriding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenEolas/pseuds/SenEolas
Summary: Okay, so, they were bored. And Idh was away, testing some bastard little jet of Conall’s that’s fast and risky but can get him places he could never go in a full ship, and his ship was just sitting there in the hangar, minding its own business, and Cú Chulainn said,the moons are so close tonight you could almost use them for turns practice, and Láeg said,you’d need a ship, and Cú Chulainn looked at the hangar and Láeg looked at Cú Chulainn and maybe, maybe they stole the ship.Aka teenage shenanigans with Láeg and Cú Chulainn, in space, because honestly, why not.
Relationships: Cú Chulainn & Láeg mac Riangabra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Flight Risk

**Author's Note:**

> listen i wrote this entire fic between midnight and 1am so no, i cannot explain what possessed me

Of course, it’s all an unfortunate misunderstanding. Láeg has already tried, earnestly, to convince them of this, but they don’t seem to see it the same way, which is how he’s found himself here, restraint cuffs around his wrists like they think he’s some kind of no-good scavenger. Which he isn’t. He isn’t even a thief, although that’s what they’re accusing him of, although, okay, technically the ship isn’t his. And technically he doesn’t have a license for it yet and shouldn’t have been in orbit. Never mind that they were only planning to go circling the moons for a bit and then head back; never mind that the ship is his brother’s and, like, is it _really_ stealing when it belongs to a relative? He had the passkey – it’s not like he had to trip the locks to get in.

But of course, his brothers would never have made a mistake like this, taking up a ~~borrowed~~ stolen ship right as the patrols are heading back planetside to refuel. And they wouldn’t have been so stupid as to try and outrun them once he realised he was made. Not that that part was his idea. It was Cú Chulainn’s suggestion, all bright eyes and feral grin, and Láeg went along with it, because there was no way he wouldn’t and because he wanted to see how fast he could go.

Pretty fast. Not fast enough not to get caught in a grav-net and dragged here, ship impounded and these damn cuffs around his wrists.

He doesn’t know where Cú Chulainn is. Talking someone’s ear off, probably, charming them into unlocking his own restraints and finding him a drink. He’s a knack for that. Láeg reckons he could do much the same himself if they’d give him a chance, but nobody’s come in to check on him for a fair while now. He’d be bored if he wasn’t keeping himself occupied by thinking about all the different ways he’s going to be _totally screwed_ when he gets home.

And that’s working on the basis that he gets back before Idh and Conall do. Because if they realise the ship’s gone…

Láeg groans and thumps the wall, which sends a jolt of electricity through his arm and knocks him sprawling. Right. Don’t hit the walls. Space jail wants to hurt you. Good to know.

It wasn’t meant to end like this. But he should have known all along that it would.

*

So this is how it happened.

Láeg’s the youngest – and the fastest, and the cleverest, not that his brothers will admit it. Not yet cleared for galactic travel, only has a planetside license for flying, and mostly that’s fine. He can do a lot planetside, skimming as close as he dares to the surface and dodging obstacles, or weaving in amongst the hills, perfecting his turns, learning to hover just so to allow his fighter to aim without having to compensate for movement. And his fighter, his best friend, his brother, comes with him. Cú Chulainn. They terrorise the countryside, go as close to the cities as the flight paths will allow them, and they both know it’s useful practice.

But that’s all it is. Practice. And they’ve both been off-planet enough times to know how much more there is to learn out there, and how much is being kept from them. So maybe they got a little bit impatient waiting for Láeg to get his full license, for Cú Chulainn to leave behind the cadet corps.

In theory there’s no war at the moment, no real reason to train, but in practice there is always fighting – skirmishes with raiders, disputes with scav ships, and there’s always the threat that things will escalate again. When it does, they’ll be ready. They swore this to each other when they were children and they’ve no plans to break it.

Okay, so, they were bored. And Idh was away, testing some bastard little jet of Conall’s that’s fast and risky but can get him places he could never go in a full ship, and his ship was just _sitting_ there in the hangar, minding its own business, and Cú Chulainn said, _the moons are so close tonight you could almost use them for turns practice_ , and Láeg said, _you’d need a ship,_ and Cú Chulainn looked at the hangar and Láeg looked at Cú Chulainn and maybe, maybe they stole the ship.

Sorry, borrowed.

Because they were going to bring it back, would be halfway back planetside by now if the patrols hadn’t interrupted them, so really, isn’t it the patrol’s fault? If Idh comes back and finds it missing it’ll be because it’s impounded here, and it doesn’t seem fair to blame Láeg for that, he’s not the one delaying its return. It was only a quick trip. Test their speed. See the stars.

Not stolen, then, borrowed. And it went perfectly at first. Cú Chulainn hopped up into the fighter’s seat and he had that grin of his that always means trouble but he followed the rules, kept his trigger discipline all shipshape and cadet-worthy, didn’t even load the subsidiary gun and made sure the main blaster was on its lowest setting. Láeg swung himself into the pilot’s seat and it _fit,_ somehow, even though he’s still not as big as his brother and he has to reach a little further than he’d like to reach all the controls. It feels right, to have these switches under his fingers. Like he was born for this.

They both thought they might get caught edging their way out of the hangar but actually it went smooth as sunset, and Láeg was able to cruise comfortably out of sight until he was over the plains and had enough clear space to make the run up to orbit. He’s seen his brothers do it a hundred times, even been in the plane watching the way they haul on the steering column, but it’s different to do it himself, because of the way the ship’s engine hums in his stomach like it’s part of him. And when they hit orbit somebody hailed them, briefly, but Láeg just rattled off his brother’s ID from the dashboard and they left him alone and he thought – they both thought – that would be it.

The moons weren’t really as close together as they looked from the ground, but they made it to the first of them at a decent lick, would probably have had time to encircle the three before they headed home and still make it back before Idh’s due home, except that the patrol was swooping in on the dark side of the first one and this time their trick didn’t work because the patrol had _seen_ Idh, and knew this wasn’t him, so that backfired, didn’t it?

Anyway. They tried to run. Probably shouldn’t have done but stars, there was something about that chase that made them both feel alive, he could sense it – feel the way his heart was pounding in his chest, see the way Cú Chulainn grinned like he felt the same. For a second it looked like they might make it except Idh’s ship… well, it’s not as fast as Láeg is, not as responsive. He’s practised his turns planetside but not up here in the void of space where trying to compensate for the wind will send you spinning in circles because you hauled too hard on the steering column.

Then grav-net. Then the ship confiscated, the two of them separated, and Láeg in this interrogation room waiting for someone to take his statement.

Statement: _technically speaking my only actual crime is underage driving so just ground me planetside for six months like the handbook says and don’t put it on my record or I’ll never make flight crew_

Maybe he should work on that.

He has plenty of opportunity to think, because they leave him there for a frankly unreasonable length of time, until his stomach’s beginning to growl and he’s wondering what the hell Cú Chulainn told them and how badly he’s screwed them both over with his clever tongue and whether they’ll end up _permanently_ grounded or maybe banished to some miserable solar system in the arse end of nowhere. His imaginary statement doesn’t get better, per se, although he adds the word _please_ wherever it might plausibly fit and practises his contrite face.

Then the door of the interrogation room hisses open and he sees who they’ve sent to deal with him and oh, shit, that’s why it took so long, they called down to planetside and they got _Scáthach_ up here.

He hasn’t had much to do with her himself, that’s Cú Chulainn’s department, but she’s the best fighter in the galaxy and she still spends half her time gunslinging when she’s not teaching littlies how to shoot. But he knows her by reputation, and by stories, and also because she was the examiner for his last test flight with Cú Chulainn.

She scares him shitless. Not that he’ll say that to her face, but she probably knows anyway.

She says, _I’ve already heard Cú Chulainn’s side of the story,_ which is how he knows that he probably isn’t going to be able to talk himself out of this one. _Is there anything you want to add?_

No, thank you, he has no desire to give her more rope to hang him with. He shakes his head and stares at the floor. She’s going to ground him for _life_. He’ll never make flight crew, might not even be allowed to fly planetside, and then what is he meant to do with his life?

She asks him how old he is. He tells her: fifteen. Two years from a full license, though if he’s lucky he might get an orbit permit next year. She says, _You and Cú Chulainn are quite the pair._

 _He didn’t fire,_ he says, because it feels important to make that point. _The main blaster wasn’t even loaded. We didn’t want trouble, we just wanted—_

 _To fly,_ she interrupts. _I know. I remember being fifteen._

He looks up then. Tries to imagine her at fifteen, and fails miserably. _It’s my brother’s ship,_ he says. _I have the passkey. It wasn’t really stealing._

 _I know_ , she says, and she has a faint smile that he can’t read at all, so he’s thinking, this is it, she’s going to call his brothers and tell them exactly how much of a failure their little bro is, and he’ll shame the whole family by never making flight crew when he could have been the best pilot in the whole damn galaxy, maybe beyond.

But she doesn’t move. She has an unsettling way of looking at him and really he’d prefer the shouting, the high-speed interrogation he was expecting when they dumped him in this room, because at least that way he’d have a hope of lying whereas she only looks at him and he knows she’s already figured it all out.

Finally he can’t bear it. He says, _What’s going to happen to us?_

Scáthach says, _First up, you’re going home,_ and then she stops, like she’s unsure how to break to him the rest of his punishment. He waits for the rest. It doesn’t come, and eventually she shakes herself out of her reverie and unlocks his restraints and says, _Don’t dawdle. Follow me._

He thought they’d be allowed to fly the ship home but of course they aren’t, because that would defeat the point of punishing them for underage joyriding, so he sits in the cargo seat while a patrolman flies them back planetside. For a skirmisher he’s not a bad pilot, though he’s got nothing on flight crew, and the landing’s smooth, the ship rolling neatly back into the hangar where it belongs.

The patrolman takes his training license. Takes Cú Chulainn’s gun-key, the one that lets him fire the blasters. Tells them both to stay on the ground until they get further instructions, and then he’s hailing a courier and heading back to the nearest shuttle depot to get himself into the sky again. They're left to close up the hangar and drag themselves back into the house. Still empty. So they've a bit of time to practise their story before they have to explain themselves to anyone else.

Cú Chulainn doesn't seem concerned. _I thought we were done for,_ he says, still grinning, because he never stops.

 _How can you be so cheerful about this?_ Láeg complains; having his training license taken from his hands felt like having a limb ripped away and he already feels impatient to get back in the sky, unsettled on the ground. _We’ll never fly again._

 _I wouldn’t be so sure,_ says his friend, his brother, his fighter, and for some reason he believes it.

*

The parcel from Scáthach arrives three days later.

One full license. One unrestricted gun-key. Two uniforms.

 _No point trying to keep you on the ground, for all you’re so young,_ she writes. _Report to Dunscaith 1160 for orders._

He stares at it for a long time before the meaning of the letter sinks in. Stares at the uniform, at the license with his name on it: _Láeg mac Riangabra, flight crew._ Stares at Cú Chulainn, who has come in to see what’s taking him so long about making breakfast.

Cú Chulainn says, _We’re going to fly,_ and Láeg feels as weightless as when he’s in orbit, untethered to the planet below, bound only to the ship around him and to his fighter sitting stern and gleeful across the cockpit.

 _Together,_ he says, and Cú Chulainn nods.

 _To the stars,_ he answers, but they’re shining in his eyes already.

**Author's Note:**

> waddup i'm trans-cuchulainn on tumblr, @seneolas on twitter, come and say hi


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